Once Upon a Silly Nightmare
by Marie Callejo
Summary: The group takes a little trip to spend a weekend in an abandoned house that is rumored to be haunted. With an ex and an enemy among her, will Bella make it through the weekend with her sanity intact?


**Rated M for mild drug use, potty mouth and other stuff.**

**Please excuse the typos.**

**This disclaimer applies to every chapter hereafter: Stephenie Meyer owns everything Twilight.**

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**Chapter 1**

This weekend is going to suck. I can feel it in my bones.

I hate anything to do with the paranormal. Things that go bump in the night scare the shit out of me. I cover my eyes when that eerie background music plays in movies. Well, none of that matters right now.

I kind of owe my boyfriend, Edward, this one little thing since I had dragged him along with me to my first ever reggae concert a month ago. We were having a blast until some chick puked on him. That shit was gross, by the way. It was all brownish-yellow and alcohol smelling. Blech.

He had slipped in said puke, taking down some other girl's tube dress in the process. Evidently, she had perky tits, so I guess she didn't see the need to wear a bra – or pasties even. Her thug-life-looking boyfriend wasn't as appreciative of the free peep show as the other guys in the vicinity. It all went downhill from there. Black eyes, bloody lips and busted noses. A brawl broke out. The cops came. My boy and the Slim Shady wannabe were carted off to the hospital for their injuries. Slim was charged with assault and battery. Coach Banner made Edward run laps for almost ruining his throwing hand.

Anyway, Edward mentioned the trip to Emmett and Alice overheard. They both thought it sounded fun, so they ended up inviting their human sextoys. Lovely. Six was definitely better than two when dealing with the kind of misery a haunted house brings. Kind of.

Alice and Jasper are well-suited for each other, even though they are complete opposites. Where Jasper is nearly six feet tall, Alice barely clears the five foot mark. I believe she's actually a few centimeters shy of it. His dirty blonde buzz cut reminds me of Justin Timberlake without the trademark curls. Alice's hair reaches halfway down her back and is dyed raven black with red, purple and blue streaks. While Alice is calm and cool, observing her surroundings for inspiration, Jasper is a rambler who speaks in facts – never his opinion. He's a nice guy, but goddamn he can talk.

Emmett McCarty is one loud ass son of a bitch. He literally is a son of a bitch. His mother is a piece of work. I believe his only volumes are: loud, louder and megaphone. He is the type of jock actors portray on TV and in movies (the stereotypes had to come from somewhere, right?). Unbelievably buff for a high school student. USC football scholarship thanks to his abilities at backing up the line, or whatever the fuck he does as a linebacker. I don't know, I'm not really big into sports. He's a little slow to catch onto intellectual jokes. But, dirty jokes… well, he will start laughing while I sit there wondering what the fuck was so funny. However, he actually has a heart of 24 karat gold. He's usually the first to stand up to bullies. He knows how cruel kids can be; his cousin in Salt Lake City was bullied to the point where she felt like she had to end her life. Thankfully, her parents had gotten to her in time. Last I heard, she was thriving in therapy. He's a good guy who belongs with a good, wholesome, girl-next-door type. So, I have no idea why he's with the school beeeeyatch.

I'm not usually a mean spirited girl, but I hate Rosalie Hale, aka Harlequin. If I wasn't afraid of my hand coming away diseased, I'd have cunt-punched her already. Her name has a double meaning: the court jester – because she's a fucking joke – and it's the condensed version of Harlot Queen, but she doesn't know that. She loves the nickname; she thinks it's cute. I think it's fitting, that's why I named her. Dumbass whorebag. Fucking hate her guts. She is the embodiment of the teenage movie mean girl. She is the blond-haired, blue-eyed, big-boobed cheerleading captain. To top it all off, she is an oversexed airhead.

She's only nice if she wants something. If she doesn't get it, she throws tantrums that puts a two-year-old to shame and then murders your social life/reputation like a pro.

In our little society called high school, your reputation is all you have. The parents of the kids I go to school with are well-known and powerful. A girl in my AP US History class is the granddaughter of an old money Republican Senator back east. Hell, Harlequin's best friend is the daughter of the best criminal defense lawyer this side of the Mississippi. She knows people that can literally end your life. Harlequin's lapdog, otherwise known as Breanne "Bree" Tanner, is the daughter of Margeaux Tanner, our current governor's right-hand woman.

I still remember how Harlequin and I first met. It was the first day of ninth grade English. We were going through the basics, a sort of "what have you retained?" We were on the topic of homonyms – same spelling, different meaning. She seriously asked the teacher if "shut up" was the same as "SHUT! _Up!_"

Oh, dear Lord, how the fudge was I supposed to take her seriously after that?

If horror movies taught me anything, it would be that the double D airheads always get killed off first. Harlequin is a prime candidate.

"But, baby, you know I don't drink Arrowhead. It's like piss in a bottle."

Ah, yes, that would be her. Rosalie pouts as she stomps her leather boot on the dusty ground. I guess it would be a little unfair of me to label her as a whore at this time in her life. She's been faithful to Emmett for the two months they've been together. If she had cheated on him – even if it was on the DL – I'd know about it. You'd have to be a CIA agent to keep a secret in that school of ours. Gossiping is a beloved past time.

"Rosie, you said you were 'dying of thirst.' Just drink this. It's not gonna kill you." Emmett has the steel nerves of Superman and the patience of Gandhi. She's been whining since we picked them up at Em's house… four hours ago.

"_Close the window! It's messing up my hair! __…_It's too hot in here! Turn on the damn AC …Now it's too cold! Get it to sixty-eight degrees!" 

"_Baby, I thought we were going to Disneyland! You said we going to The Haunted Mansion." _

"_Camping? That's for people who don't have money for, like, a _real_ vacation. That's so not me."_

"_Baby, can we go buy an inflatable, then? …Why the fuck not? My body is not made to sleep in a sleeping bag on the fucking floor. Only homeless people do that. Hello! Have you not heard of skid row?" _

"_This music sucks! Play something else!"_

"_Shut up, Jason, you're giving me a headache! Nobody gives a shit about ghost towns, okay? ...Jasper? What the hell kind of name is that? Did your parents not love you or something? …Eww, Callie, get your nappy hair out of my face! Baby, stop laughing, it's not funny!"_

Fuck! I was ready to throw her ass out of the window when Edward finally decided that he needed gas.

"I. Don't. Drink. Arrowhead. I'm sure you can afford something better than that," she spat, eyeing the water bottle in revulsion. "I'll even settle for a Smartwater. It's not like you don't have the money, Emmett."

From what I hear through the high school grapevine, Harlequin never pays for anything herself. She doesn't have a job, yet she spends more money in a month than a low-income working family makes in a year. It is all courtesy of Daddy's coveted American Express black card. She is one of those high-maintenance trust fund babies from Hancock Park. Her dad is "house counsel" to the biggest and most badass company in the southwest, Volturi Unlimited. They have their fingers in everything from real estate to the import/export business to Lillian Hale's snatch. Yup, Mrs. Hale's cheating on Mr. Hale. It's okay though because he's banging Heidi, Aro Volturi's twenty-three-year-old daughter – it's all about balance here, people. Can you sense my sarcasm?

I'm sure David Hale gets paid a shit-ton of money to keep their asses out of the court room. Mrs. Hale is a psychiatrist who charges $450 an hour, plus extra fees for emergency night, weekend and holiday sessions. I think their approach to parenting was "if we give her whatever she wants, maybe she'll shut the fuck up."

"We're in a country gas station, babe. It's either this, some generic brand or the water fountain… I can go get you a soda," he says, trying anything to placate her.

She scoffs and looks at him like she couldn't believe he had just said that. "Soda makes you fat," she spits out, cutting her eyes towards me.

"Then, what about a diet soda?"

"Are you trying to give me cancer? Diet anything has that asthma shit in it," she says like a dumbass know-it-all.

It's called aspartame, bitch. And it's safe as long as you don't consume pounds of that shit monthly. You're more likely to gain weight, than get cancer. She's the kind of person who will blindly believe what the media says without checking the facts on her own because in her eyes, the media does no wrong. Hmph.

I put down my can of Coke, satisfied that my thirst is quenched – not because of Harlequin's criticism – and pick up my king-sized Snickers. They are my weakness. Edward could get me to cave on almost anything if he gave me one of those first.

"So does candy bars," I hear her say. Personally, I think she's just jealous that she can't eat one. Her being allergic to anything made with nuts (I'm not talking about male genitals here) made it difficult to enjoy a lot of things. Like Snickers… or Nutella crepes. Bitch doesn't know what she's missing.

"Looks like the sugar's going straight to your lumpy hips, dirty bird," she says as she settles her ass into the third row seat of Edward's Navigator. I wish I could say her ass was bony or scrawny, but unfortunately for me, she is perfectly proportioned. She has a set of T and A that all non-related guys – except Edward (thank God) and Jasper – pant after. I have half a mind to throw a peanut at her to see if she'll burst into hives, but decide she isn't worth wasting my food.

I keep my mouth shut. I know that she loves drama. Shit-talking and self-esteem mutilating is her specialty. If I start up with her now, she'll try to goad me into a catfight for the rest of the trip. I wonder how Emmett will feel if I throw her out of a moving vehicle. Not too sad, I hope.

To be fair, the caramel and nougat _are_ probably going to my hips, but I'm not overweight nor am I insecure about my size. I'm a 7 and I don't care who knows it. I had gone up a jean size or three since I started dating Edward. He definitely doesn't mind. He's a grabber. Catch my drift? According to him, he'd rather have a healthy handful of flesh than an uncomfortable grip on skin and bones.

Emmett mumbles quietly to Harlot, something about everything working out. I didn't even hear him come in.

Alice and Jasper clamber in after them, reeking of weed. Alice's eyes are bloodshot. Jasper is channeling Phil Jackson, the Zen Master. Odd. I turn to look at him and notice that his eyes aren't as white as they were when he left.

"Needed to relieve some anxiety," Alice informs me before using her trusty eye drops. "Hole," she calls out, indicating Rosalie. "Chips. Gimme."

Rosalie ignores her and studies her reflection in her compact mirror. She even puckers up and gives her mirror image an air kiss. Vain. Emmett hands the BBQ chips over.

The story behind Alice's nickname for Rosalie is an artistic one.

One day, before Rosalie started dating Emmett, Alice ranted about how much of a slut Rosalie was. I already knew this, but I listened with mild interest anyway. Apparently, Alice had walked into the art room after school one day to see Peter, the guy she was publicly crushing on, giving it to Rosalie from behind while she was bent over the sinks in the back of the room. Rosalie's cheerleading skirt was flipped up and her leopard-print thong (because Rosalie Hale is notoriously famous for not wearing bloomers with her cheerleading outfit) was hanging on an easel. Peter had his basketball shorts halfway down his pasty ass. Rosalie's tits were out getting some air and Peter made sure those nippy nips stayed warm and erect.

I was just coming out of the bathroom when Alice stomped in, mumbling angrily to no one in particular. She shut the door to her room and then presumably smoked a bowl on her balcony. She came back down an hour later and presented a drawing with a flourish. She wasn't even fazed that her brother had his face all up in my lady parts and I was on the brink of a screaming O.

That mouth of his is very talented.

That was my fault by the way. Doing things in places we shouldn't be doing them if there was a chance of being caught excited me. And, boy did Edward LOVE when I was excited.

Moving on…

The drawing was some kind of comic book cover. The title was a play on her name. "The Adventures of Rosalie's Hole: Rosalie Pulls a Train." The girl that was bent over a picnic table in her cheerleading uniform was none other than Rosalie Hale. There was a line of people behind her, the first five were detailed – Mr. Cope, the dean of students; Mr. Sam Uley, the youngest and hottest teacher at school; Jared Rowe, the president of the no-sex-'til-marriage club; Peter Wilkes, Alice's crush with the teeny prick; and Harlequin's best friend, Lauren Mallory with a strap-on and a dominatrix get-up – she's the one who can make you disappear if she so desires. The rest of them were a shadowed crowd as the line wrapped around buildings, cars, and trees.

Alice's master plan was to plaster Hancock Park and the school with copies to humiliate her. Thankfully, Edward talked her down, told her it was something akin to bullying and will get her in major trouble. Not to mention the damage it would do to the adult men. They would lose their jobs and standing in the community if their sexcapades were made public.

Yes, Rosalie Hale had sex with those people. It's common knowledge amongst us students.

Edward is the last to climb in. I don't realize he is holding anything until he hands it over to me. Then, Emmett's last comment to Harlot makes a little sense.

"We're going back to Albertson's aren't we?" The store was about forty miles in the other direction.

"Sorry," he says sheepishly. "But, he promised to keep her out of our hair."

"Yeah, right," I mutter, stuffing my five new Snickers bars into my purse.

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"We're here!" Edward hollers as we come to a stop.

"I thought you said this place was abandoned," I say uneasily, watching a white curtain move. I refuse to believe that a ghost had just peeked out of the damn window to see who was visiting.

"It is."

"Then, why –"

"Yay! You're here!" A girl squeals, swinging the door open.

"Who is _that_?" I ask as she bounds towards me.

"Edward! I'm so happy you made it!" She exclaims happily before he can answer me. She throws her body at _my_ boyfriend and snuggles into him. Then, she has the audacity to grab his face and plant a big, fat, juicy kiss on his lips.

I give him my worst bitch brow and his eyes seem to cower in fear. I fight the urge to knock Hole's shiny veneers out of her mouth when she says, "Looks like you're leaving single this weekend, pigeon."

"Shut the fuck up, Hole," I mutter, "before I tie your skank ass up and lock you in a closet." In addition to being allergic to nuts, she's also a touch claustrophobic. I wonder how she would feel if I duct tape her sleeping bag closed while she's sleeping in it. Hmm… I could always blame the ghost in the house.

"Uh, hey, Jess," boyfriend-who-has-shit-coming-to-him says, laughing uneasily. "Everyone this is Jessica. Jess this is everyone."

I'm a little put off that he considers me part of the "everyone" group and doesn't say anything about me holding the leash on his dick.

"You didn't tell me there would be _more_ people, _Tug_," I say. On the outside, I'm calm, smiling even. On the inside, I'm seething and pretending that my eyes shoot lasers. I'm a minute away from erupting like Vesuvius and destroying everything in my path.

"Uh, yeah, about that…" he replies, rubbing the back of his neck. I tuned out his half-assed explanation and turned to look at Jess smiling widely at everyone.

And now that I'm really looking at Jessica, I'm so fucking insecure it's not even funny. My volcanic rage fizzles out like a candle in a rainstorm.

Jessica is more than pretty. She is definitely blessed with a chest and has an ass to match, yet she's slim. Maybe she has boob and butt implants. I've heard of it being done before; I do live in L.A. She has glossy, wavy black hair, a pale complexion with rosy cheeks and a dark red pout. Her eyes are an aqua blue with a splash of hazel with long, dark lashes. She's a frickin' cross between Snow White and Jessica Rabbit. And most of all, it's apparent that she has some kind of previous intimate connection with Tug that she thinks never broke. Me no likey. Nuh-uh.

She's a Disney pornstar and I'm one boring ass chick. I'm not overly tanned like many girls at school, but I'm not pasty either. My lashes could be thick and long if I put some mascara on. There was nothing really remarkable about my face unless you count the mole on my cheekbone near the corner of my left eye. The only thing I have going for me is that my body is shaped like an hourglass, but that is entirely due to the weight gain. I have the stretch marks to prove it.

"Hi, everyone!" She giggles. And, evidently, she has a set of deep dimples, too. Great. I have one that people can only see if I smile like a lunatic.

"Everyone" is in the process of returning her greeting when she screams, "OH, MY GOD! Alley Cat? I didn't even recognize you! Wow, you look totally different! How are you?" Her hands are still glued to Tug and he isn't doing anything to stop it.

I call him that when I'm pissed because the name's embarrassing for him.

We were doing the sex Skype thing one night when his mom barged into his room to remind him of his doctor's appointment the next day. He flipped his laptop over on his bed, forgetting to exit out of the program.

He was caught _tugging_ on his meat. He was traumatized. Esme pointed out that "it's only natural that a young man wants to explore his sexuality by taking things into his own hands." I heard her say, "being curious about pornography is normal" and that he had "nothing to be ashamed of" because she used to change his diapers. She's like a new age hippy – free love, peace and all that. Nothing ruffles her feathers. I suspect that she lights up with Alice from time to time.

Tug and Alice are not California natives like the rest of us, sans Ms. Rabbit. They – and apparently Rabbit over here – come from a small ass town in Washington. Forks, I think it was. And when I say small, I mean tiny. I've been told that there are more students in the public high school down the street than there are in Forks.

Alice was still a fourteen-year-old fresh-faced freshman with an auburn-colored pixie hair cut, a lavender cable-knit poncho and Mary Jane flats on her first day of school. Tug was a cute gangly fifteen-year-old with braces. He ended up in my homeroom and sixth period AP world history class. We got paired up for some civilization project one week. The next, we were "talking." The week after, we started dating and have been ever since. That may come to an end if he doesn't get his hands off of Ms. Rabbit.

Alice manages a lazy smile and a short "good." She may still be high. Hell, I might have to take a couple dozen hits with her just to get through this weekend.

Everybody seems to be looking at each other with no clue as to what to do next. Tug is stupidly silent, forgetting that his girlfriend is standing next to him – me, not her. Since I probably have the highest IQ around here, I take it upon myself to get everything out of Tug's Navigator, not caring if anyone is following my lead.

"Here, let me help you with that," Jasper offers. "He's a little distracted," he supplies when I look back.

Yes, he is a little distracted. He's standing there nodding and smiling as she speaks animatedly and gestures wildly with her hands.

The house looks like it could use a good spit shine, but otherwise it's in good condition. I'm not sure if we're going to pitch the tents, but I unload them anyway. I was planning to sleep out in the Navi no matter where Tug decided to lay his head down. However, now that I've met Rabid, I'm going to be sleeping wherever my boyfriend decides. I wouldn't put it past her to shimmy her way into his bed while he's having good dreams about me.

"Alice told me about how things were in Forks. Edward and Jessica were together since the beginning of middle school. They broke up a week before the move down here. She only tolerated Alice because she is Edward's sister. Alice wasn't popular. She got picked on because she wasn't like them and they thought it was weird that…" I tuned him out after that, knowing he'd go into full detail of everything she had ever told him. "Damn, that girl can _talk_," I finally hear.

I laugh.

"What's funny?" He looks confused.

I laugh some more and tell him that it's nothing.

We unload everything, even Hole's crap; although, I'm a very rough with her things. I purposely let her Hermès leather duffle roll out the back and onto the floor. I "accidentally" kick it across the gravel for good measure. You can call me immature all you want. I don't care. I act on my immature instincts because that is what society expects of people my age. Why fight it? Right now, my instincts are telling me to light Hole's leather on fire specifically because she was ordering me to be careful with it while calling me "Runner."

Runner. As in runner-up. As in second place. To Rabbit. Yeah, bitch, laugh it up. I'll tape your eyes closed while you're sleeping.

I sling my Tumi duffle across my shoulder as I pass Jessica and Roger Rabbit's conversation. I time it perfectly so that the duffle hits Tug square in the back, making him stumble slightly into his ex.

"I got it, love."

Oh, now, he acknowledges me. "Oh, no, no, I'm handling everything just fine, _Tug_. Stay. Catch up," I say with mock sweetness. I see him wince at the name, but doesn't protest or ask for an explanation. It seems that he knows why he deserves it.

"Please, Bella… I got this, okay? I'm sorry. Go ahead and relax. Let me just—"

"Fine," I say, dropping my duffle on his feet. "Come on, Ali. Let's go relax."

He is about to stop me, but Rabbit literally pulls him back into conversation, narrowing her eyes at me with a scowl on her face. Maybe I should change her name to Rabid. _I hope that stink face gives you wrinkles!_ I see a deep frown on Tug's face as I watch him from the corner of my eye. He hasn't taken his eyes off of me, despite Rabid's attempts to regain his attention.

I roll my eyes.

Tug doesn't like that his little sister gets high on a regular basis, but he isn't the type to rat her out. He especially despises the idea of me getting high. Again, I think it is because he can't do it. He has to pee in a cup at random intervals to stay on the football team. Random drug testing keeps my boy on the straight and narrow.

After grabbing two six-packs of Shock Top from the cooler — our go-to chick beer aside from Magners — Alice and I make ourselves at home on a fallen tree at the edge of the property.

Alice lets me take the first hit, sensing that I need it. Puff, puff, pass. Puff, puff, pass.

I start feeling the effects after the second time around. My body feels light, muscles are loose and my worries keep drifting farther away from me.

"Better?" she asks me with a lazy smile.

"Oh, yeah."

"Wait 'til you see what I have for tonight," she says waggling her eyebrows.

By the end, I'm feeling sleepy and sluggish. I'm motionless in a pile of fallen leaves, staring at tree bark where the shadows shift with the wind. We lounge in the warm air and cool breeze, protected by the shade of a huge tree until our spit dries up and the urge for something to drink overwhelms our senses. Lazily walking back to the house, we wipe out both six-packs and decide to lie out on the porch because we're too lazy to open the door.

_Maybe this trip won't be so bad after all_. That is the last thing I think before I drift off into unconsciousness.

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**AN: Feeling just a tad anxious about this. Now that most of the introductions are done, subsequent chapters will not be as long as this one. 1,000 - 2,000 words per chapter should do it.**

**I'm on FB for updates, teasers, games and whatever. Feel free to add me. Look me up by email: marie_callejo(a)hotmail**


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